


Like the Sea

by Zeryx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Barebacking, Biting, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Canon-Compliant Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Dean-Centric, First Time, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeryx/pseuds/Zeryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rexford, Idaho is where Castiel learned how to be a Sales Associate and many other things. It's also where Dean, and the past, caught up with him for a little while. What happened the night Castiel killed a Rit zien and stayed with Dean?<br/>_________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Dean ignores the sounds of pleasure Cas makes as he chews his pizza, tries not to feel the stab in his gut as he contemplates that this is possibly the first meal Cas's had in weeks that didn't come out of a can, packet, or the daily expireds from a gas station. He's human and doesn't even get to enjoy any of the fun parts. Hedonism was dangerous, he'd said—<em>April, oh God he died, he died after losing his virginity, and he was, he was all cut up</em>—Dean chews and swallows mechanically, feeling the grease solidify into a hardened lump in his stomach. <em>I want...</em> He can't finish the thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by my friend [Badwolfgoddess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfgoddess), filling in the blanks during the S9 episode "Heaven Can't Wait" with what happened between Dean asking "Where to, Cas?" and Dean dropping Cas off at work the next morning. 
> 
> Many thanks as always to my beta reader, [Hit_the_books](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books)!

They're at a stoplight, idling in the Impala.  
"So...." Dean chuckles. "You and a baby, huh? How'd that go?"  
  
"We had a surprising amount in common.... perhaps there was some merit to something you once said."  
  
"Oh?" Dean glances at Cas in profile; the former angel is sitting with his hands clasped in his lap. "How's that, Cas?" His fingers curl under themselves and Dean notices the light has changed.  
  
"Green means go, Dean."  
  
Dean hits the gas, muttering curses under his breath. He glares at the shitbox old Honda Civic ahead of them. "Where to, pal?"  
  
"I do not know where to go from here."  
  
Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel, worries his bottom lip with his teeth. "It's a simple question." He pretends his friend isn't having yet another existential crisis.  
  
"I'm aware there are only so many options, so the answer must be finite in scope."  
  
Dean swallows thickly. Cas feels too damn close and too freaking far at the same time. They pause at another light, and he looks over to find the ex-angel regarding him, steady and implacable. His hand comes to rest on Dean's thigh; his leg jerks like he's been burned.  
"Cas, what—"  
  
"I suppose the real question is, your place or mine?"  
  
"Oh." Crap. _Crap_.  
  
"As I am currently residing in the store room at my workplace, I guess that means yours. You were right, Dean. There was no question at all. Simple."  
  
The light's changed. Green means go— Cas had been doing _what_? Christ, Dean is the biggest douche in the world.  
  
"I understand, traditionally, that a form of payment is required for shelter..." Cas slides his hand along Dean's thigh, dangerously near his crotch. Dean is turning the car back towards his motel and he jerks the wheel, barely managing not to hit the curb.  
"Let me share your bed, Dean."  
  
Oh God. This is fucked up and all kinds of wrong. His angel, former angel, is soliciting him? Just to be able to sleep in a bed for once. _Maybe for the first time since he's been human._ Dean feels punched in the gut. "Cas...no. You're being ridiculous."  
  
"I'm aware you prefer females, Dean, but isn't one hole as good as another?"  
  
Dean sucks in a breath, shame rolling in his gut and washing across him with a tide of self-loathing. _I can't freaking believe this. I really thought literally cleaning up other people's shit— has it really come to this? He can't. He can't think—Oh God he has no idea. He still has no idea why—and I can't tell him. I still can't goddamn tell him why I told him to go._  
"Cas, you're my friend. I know I'm a dick, but you're my best friend. You don't—" Cas squeezes his thigh, and Dean's heart constricts, stutters.  
  
"It's alright. You're only human. We both are, now. I don't mind. I'm curious."  
  
Right, curious. Because Castiel was never human, all he has is curiosity to go on. He doesn't understand what this means. All he knows about being human is second-hand knowledge and— _and the shitty fucking way I've treated him. Fuck, and I told him earlier today my dates only last "until I run out of singles". No wonder he's goddamn confused._

"Christ Cas, how many times do I gotta' tell you no? You can take the bed. I'll take the couch. It's—it's fine." Dean grinds out, jaw clenched so hard it's a minor miracle he hasn't chipped a tooth.  
  
"Alright." Cas falls quiet, but leaves his hand where it is. Dean has the sinking feeling this won't be the end of it.  


 

****

They get to the motel Dean picked out, and he is so glad, so **freaking glad ******that Cas hasn't been exploded into a pile of goo, but shit man, he's tired.

"Hey buddy, what do you say I order us in some chow? You can take a shower, OK?"

"Sure, Dean. Thank-you." Cas gives him a small smile, but there's still that weird nervousness making the skin tight around his eyes.

"I'll um, you can borrow some of my clothes while you wash yours, OK?" Dean roots through his duffel bag, coming up with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. It's only early fall and they're about to sleep, so there's no reason to give Cas a pair of pants, right?

Dean feels his stomach churn, remembering that his friend had said all he had were the clothes on his back. Fuck it, he'll just— _I'll leave him some clothes at his work. He won't get all, I dunno'... I don't want him to thank me. I'll just leave them there when he's busy._

Castiel comes around and grabs the clothes, fingertips brushing Dean's hands, shy smile on his face. "I am grateful."

Dean coughs, rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. Listen, don't—don't be. And _no, I don't want to talk about it_."

Castiel frowns, "Alright, Dean. as you say."

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the web to find out what's decent to eat around here, and out of the corner of his eye, Cas is stripping.

Dean swallows, gaze darting between the phone and the muscles bunching on Cas's back as he pulls off his shirt, exposing a long line of vertebrae pulling tight under where the skin is thin. It stands out sharply, vulnerable, as he stands on one foot at a time to pull off his socks.

 _I'm, I'm the worst creep in the world_ , watching the way the muscles slide over Cas's ribs, from the way his dick twitches a bit from seeing how Cas's shoulders, back and waist form a narrow v-shape. He swallows and licks his lips, noting his friend's tight ass and powerful thigh muscles. _He's gotta' be a runner. Yeah, that's probably what he does to stay in shape. How does he still look like that after months of crappy gas station food?_

Castiel throws a glance over his shoulder, expression unreadable as his eyes meet Dean's.

Ears burning, Dean turns away and arbitrarily picks the closest place that will deliver, a pizza place, and that's good because it'll mean left overs. Smart-phones are pretty handy because he didn't even have to talk to anyone to order food, and thank God because he doesn't know if he can control his voice right now.

He clenches his hands into fists, twisting the fabric of his slacks in them. _Was Cas right? Am I so freakin' low that one hole really is as good as the next to me? I don't know how to deal with him so vulnerable, so lost.... He can't, he can't be happy here, and I still can't take him home._

Dean stares off into space for another moment, before gathering his friend's clothes up off the floor and heading to the motel's crappy washer and dryer. _This much, I can do._

He'd only been in town a day so he doesn't really have laundry of his own to do. He puts coins in the slot and drops a half tablet of laundry detergent in. Checks for stains that need to be spot-cleaned, but doesn't find any.

The collar of Cas's dress shirt is turning a little bit yellow from constant use and lack of bleach, and Dean inhales deeply, curious before he can stop himself. It smells a little like sweat, a little like gasoline, and a little like that blue raspberry garbage they had in the slush machine at the Gas'n'Sip.

He drops the clothes into the washer drum, then viciously slams the lid shut, and palm-strikes the change back. Scowling, he grabs the corners of the machine and drops his shoulders, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He's half-hard.

_What kind of fucking monster am I? Why does it—I can hurt Cas. He has to eat, breathe, shit, sleep, like everyone else now. Why do I want to drag him down into the dirt with me? I'm fucked up. So fucked..._

Dean heads back to the room, and turns the t.v. on, searching the channels until he finds a Star trek re-run. He zones out, until he hears the water shut off. Cas had stayed in there awhile, and he's distracted from thoughts of his friend hauling on _his clothes, **his** clothes covering Cas's naked body _ by a knock on the door.

Cas sticks his head out the bathroom, "Dean, is that the **Pizza man**? I am not a baby-sitter right now...."

Dean chuckles, strained as it is, "Don't worry about it, Cas. The pizza man doesn't love you, anyway."

"That is good, because I am uncertain how I feel about being slapped on the rear." Cas retreats back into the bathroom.

Dean howls, laughing so hard tears are in his eyes as he moves to the door. He wipes at the corner of his eye with his knuckle, and opens the door. "Hey."

The pizza man, a gawky teenager who's tall like Sam and hasn't grown into his limbs yet, offers the pizza and a bemused smile, probably wondering what the hell is so funny. "Hi. That'll be twenty dollars."

"'K." Dean grabs the pizza and puts it down on the dinky motel table that has one leg slightly shorter than the rest so it rocks a little when he puts the food down. He turns back and takes a card out of his wallet, pays the dude, and then that's all done so he opens the box, sits down and waits for his friend. It's double pepperoni, but he threw a few vegetables on there for the sake of getting them into Cas.

Cas comes out, dressed minimally, towel around his shoulders to soak up the drips from his damp hair. Dean digs his nails into his thigh viciously, because all he wants to do is mess up his friend all over again, mark him with his own scent all over.

_What is wrong with me? Am I turning into a freakin' cat? Though, I'm sure if I was a cat, Cas would take good care of me... He'd stroke me all over—Fuck, it's been a long day._

Dean is torn between a desire to cover Cas up more, and enjoying being able to see his friend's neck, thighs, and forearms exposed. _So messed up. I'm so freakin' messed up._

"Dig in, buddy." Cas slides the other chair back and seats himself. They both pick up slices and start eating, idly watching Star Trek.

Dean ignores the sounds of pleasure Cas makes as he chews, tries not to feel the stab in his gut as he contemplates that this is possibly the first meal Cas's had in weeks that didn't come out of a can, packet, or the daily expireds from a gas station.

 _He's human and doesn't even get to enjoy any of the fun parts. Hedonism was dangerous, he'd said—April, oh God he died, he died after losing his virginity, and he was, he was all cut up—_ Dean chews and swallows mechanically, feeling the grease solidify into a hardened lump in his stomach.

 _I want..._ He can't finish the thought.

"This is very good, Dean," Cas gives him a wide smile, a smear of tomato sauce on his cheek.

"Right? It ain't half bad." Dean offers Cas a shaky smile, and before he can stop himself, he's wiping the sauce off with his thumb. "You had a, a little something—" He looks away, wipes his hand on a napkin, face burning. He can feel the ex-angel's puzzled stare.

"Oh. Thank—"

"Don't. Don't thank me." Dean coughs and pushes abruptly away from the table, causing it to wobble. "Time to change over the laundry."

Dean beats a hasty retreat to the laundry room, and there's still a couple of minutes left on the washer cycle. He can hear the drum spinning, see it rattling the machine. Just like his heart. _What is wrong with me?_

He stands there and stares, waiting for the cycle to count down. Waiting for the spinning to stop.

After an eternity, it does, and his pulse has calmed a little, too. He puts the laundry in the dryer after checking the tags to make sure he wasn't going to mess it up by doing so. The door opens, and it's Cas. He must've been gone awhile. Dean tries to smile, "Hey, uh, it wasn't quite done when I left."

"It's alright. Tha—Um, I believe I like Star Trek. It is a most engaging program. I can empathize with Spock's confusion about humans and emotions, and it is wonderful how everyone works as a team. The show is so hopeful about the future, so optimistic about humanity—it... it makes me feel a little better."

Cas is so adorable and dorky, and Dean wants to hug him close, but his hands stay at his sides. "That's good, Cas. Yeah I like it, too. Captain Kirk is _the man_."

"He has an interesting dynamic with Spock, yet he is constantly pursuing strange women. It seems oddly familiar, somehow..."

 _Oh Christ. Cas has seen one lousy episode of Star Trek and he's a slasher?!_ Dean ignores the subtext the statement is rife with, and instead pats the top of the dryer.

"Why don't you climb up on top here, Cas? Sammy and I used to do this all the time when we were kids, it's fun. Like a no-budget magic fingers."

Cas climbs on top and a slow, delighted smile crosses his face. "Yes, this is pleasurable."

Dean regards his friend, and the words come tumbling out of his mouth. "Cas, Spock is caught between two worlds. He's not human, you know? He's half-human, and he can't understand Kirk very well. Emotions just confuse him."

"Maybe... maybe Spock would enjoy Kirk teaching him about humanity."

"He does. I mean, he tries. So far as I can, I mean, there's always something going on, some mission—" Dean fails to notice the Freudian slip.

The smile slides off of Cas's face, "Yes, I suppose that's true..."

Something desperate bubbles up from Dean's throat, and his hands are on either side of Cas's thighs, grabbing the dryer, and it's shaking him, and Dean doesn't care, Cas, _Cas..._

His face is scant inches from the ex-angel's, and Dean is swallowing, Adam's apple working up and down, and so is Cas's, and it'd be the easiest thing, the easiest thing in the world to close the gap—

"Dean, what... what about personal space?"

"Cas, Christ, I just want to—"

_I want to be close to you. I can't take this anymore. You're killing me, it's killing me, seeing you crawl down in the mud with me, and all I want is make you filthier, dirtier, until all the shine's worn off you, and then we can be together, really be together, and we'll sort this whole mess with Zeke and maybe we can retire to a B &B in Vermont or something and—_

Dean can't say any of this, the words are all stuck in his throat. Cas is looking at his mouth, and he licks his lips and blinks, and Dean is surging forward, pressing his mouth to the ex-angel's, and the poor guy has no idea what's happening, well maybe he does a little now, because he's pressing back.

He's kissing Dean back, his hands are going to his head, they're getting right in his hair and he's pulling Dean closer, kissing him like he still doesn't need air, like he can't get enough. It goes on forever and not long enough, the tumbling dryer clinking their teeth together, and finally they pull apart with a gasp, and start panting.

Dean hasn't let go of the dryer, and he looks down at his hands, at his arms framing Cas's body, and he can't, he can't help but notice that Cas is hard, a sliver of skin peeking out from where his junk is straining against the fly, drawing the buttons tight.

" _Cas._ Cas... oh God, please man, can I touch you?"

"Yes, Dean. Please..." Cas looks at him through his eyelashes, shy, biting his lip, and he learned it from **him** , _fuck he learned that from watching me._

Dean covers Cas's erection with his hand, rubbing him gently through cotton worn thin and smooth, and slips his thumb inside the gap, tracing iron silk.

He watches, rapt, while Cas's eyes flutter shut and the ex-angel's mouth falls open a little with a quiet moan. Castiel must've changed job classes from angel to freaking red mage because Dean is spellbound; he undoes the lone button of the boxer's fly and takes Cas's dick out, all the while watching as he vibrates on top of the tumbling dryer.

Cas is so hard already that he's leaking just a bit, and Dean rubs the pre-come around the slit. His other hand closes over Cas's hip as he drifts forward and starts sucking, licking, and biting gently at that vulnerable line of neck, something deep in his hindbrain driving him to claim.

"Cas..." he pants quietly, feeling like his brain is melting and exploded at the same time somehow.

"Dean..." his friend's eyes are huge, all pupil, swallowing up a thin line of blue and a shock like being tazed rips through Dean, standing all his hair on end. "Make love to me, Dean. Please. I wish to know what it is like."

Dean's expression becomes shuttered, "Cas, I... do you... do you understand what you're asking?" his hand slows, and he still can't get over this, that Cas is hard and throbbing _in his goddamn hand_. He can barely process what his friend just said.

"Tie me to this body, Dean. I am already bound to you."

Something in Dean's brain shorts out, all he can think is _Cas_ and _tied up_.

"O...OK Cas." He picks him up and cradles his body close, hiking a leg up high so no one will see the ex-angel's erection sticking out on the short trip back to their room.

Dean slides the key-card through the slot with sweaty, shaking hands while Castiel nibbles on his neck, copying what Dean had done to him just seconds ago. It makes Dean's dick so hard it's amazing it hasn't shot off like a freaking rocket.

They get inside, finally, and Dean kicks the door shut behind them with his foot. He deposits Cas gently on the bed, slowly lowering him down while he clings to Dean, koala-like. It's adorable and squeezes his heart with a feeling that's nearly suffocating.

Cas's wet hair mats on the pillow, and Dean can't bring himself to care. He follows Cas down, putting a leg between his knees, pushing his thigh gently into his friend's dick to give him a little friction as he kisses him slowly, lips ghosting across and then down to Cas's neck.

"Dean..." Cas cries urgently, rubbing his erection into Dean's leg.

"I got you, Cas. I got you." _I'm going to make you fall apart. I'm going to take you apart. Just you watch, angel,_ Dean thinks, bordering on hysteria.

Dean pauses, hands pushing up under Cas's shirt and skimming his ribs. Cas is tugging at his shirt and Dean complies, taking his clothes off in a hurry. Cas's eyes are hot with want, and his face is flushed with desire that snakes down his chest, making it red as well.

Castiel being sex-flushed is something Dean never thought he'd get to see, never even thought was possible, and he stares openly. Cas has no shame and stares right back, same as he ever did.

Something snaps in Dean's brain and then he's sliding back down, slotting Cas back into him, rubbing against him like a cat. He sucks and licks at Cas's Adam's apple, groaning low in his throat. It feels _so damn good_ , and how could Castiel ever think one hole was as good as the next, ever think anything, anyone at all would do when everything Dean's ever wanted is laid right here beneath him?

"More," Castiel gasps, and Dean is a little bit shocked to find he's this greedy, except for the part where Castiel has always pushed for everything he wanted so maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all.

Dean kisses down to his collarbones, licks along the sharp edge a moment. He then trails kisses down to Cas's nipples, and takes his time with each, licking and nibbling, dragging his teeth along the sensitive nubs between sucks.

His fingers dig into the delicate curve of Cas's hip bones again, and the sheer power, the knowledge that he can _bruise_ if he wants to gets him worked up all over again, pushing him to a fever pitch that moves his head down. Down, inevitably down, lips seeking ribs, teeth biting gently as he digs his thumbs into the hollow just under pelvic bone.

"Open up, Cas. Open your legs for me, angel." Castiel moans and complies instantly, spiking Dean's heart-rate again.

"Good. That's right...." Dean kisses one thigh, and strokes the other, brushing his fingertips along the powerful muscles and tracing the major artery there. He kisses around Cas's thigh in a circle before coming to the hollow between thigh and ass, and then sucks a bruising kiss into it, biting down a little again. Cas gasps and arches his back, his dick jumping a little and brushing against Dean's cheek.

"Mm, yeah you like that?"

"I like anything you are willing to give me, _Dean_ —" A low moan rips out of Cas's throat as Dean takes his slowly weeping erection into his mouth, getting it all in one movement.

It's awful and Dean can't help it, he's supposed to be making love to his angel but all he can do is walk the line with hurting him and making him lose his mind.

Cas thrusts his hips forward and Dean chokes a little as his gag reflex is hit and a surge of thick saliva bubbles up. He makes a sound that's totally not unmanly and then he's got his hand on his own dick as he tilts his head so Cas hits the far back of his cheek instead of going down his throat.

It's been awhile since he was last with a man, but Dean is bound and determined to make this good for his friend. He will go to hell and burn again if it means he can make Cas feel good, give him _something_ to hold onto that isn't pain and misery, isn't loneliness.

Cas's hands are scrabbling at his hair, and his thigh is tensing over and over under his hand. "Dean.... _Dean_....This is... this is very pleasurable.... but I—" Dean draws off and looks up at Castiel, circling the head of his dick with his tongue, toying with the rim. Castiel arches and gasps again.

"I am sorry if my attempts at seduction are clumsy.... It is much harder to do than to just watch. But I need you. I need you, close to me, Dean. Please. Please Dean, come here. Please..." Dean shuts his eyes and swallows around Cas's dick, eyes burning.

 _Cas....Cas I'm... this is all I know I can do. I'll try. I'm kinda' freaked out, way out of my comfort zone, but I'll try_. He lets Cas tug him off his dick and follows his hand until he's holding the ex-angel, heart beating in his mouth, nerves singing along his skin with hyper awareness of every point of contact where their bodies have joined.

"Cas... Cas what do you.... what do you want?" Dean buries his face in Castiel's neck, resting his lips against the fluttering pulse there.

"Take me. Put yourself inside of me, Dean." Cas's voice is calm, steady, and how could he freaking just _say_ that? Say that like he isn't.... like he isn't asking Dean to take what's left of his virginity?

This can't be real. I must have... it must be another djinn. Or I'm dreaming?

I nodded off in Baby after I dropped Cas off on his date. I never went across town, saw that picture of the jeep and managed to save Cas's bacon. Cas can't be seriously asking me to—

" _Dean... please, Dean..._ I know it will hurt, but isn't that what it means to be human? There's always pain. I want this. Please. I swear to you, I am aware of what I ask."

Dean pins Cas's hands up over his head by the wrists and kisses him hotly, wet and sloppy, unable to contain himself anymore as he licks into the ex-angel's mouth, curling his tongue with and against the other man's as their teeth clack together.

"Yes. _God yes, Cas_. I want you, I want you _so friggin' bad_."

Castiel moans, giving back as good as he gets, practically vibrating.

The hunter pushes himself up, leaning over Cas to look down into his face. "Just, just let me—I'll be down there for awhile, OK? It'll feel weird, but don't fight me. OK? Just let me do my job. Alright?"

Cas nods, expression so vulnerable, and trusting, unafraid, that if he didn't already have a reason to make love to him, that would be it. Dean's not going to say his heart swelled three sizes this day, but the flood of longing makes his heart ache sharply, makes his eyes water.

Wordlessly, he lets go of Cas's wrists and kisses down his body once more, settling down between his thighs again. He gets lower and palms his friend's (lover's) dick, kneading the sack with the shaft gently as he holds it up out of the way. He swallows, meets Castiel's eyes, and he can barely hold his nerve as his chin comes to press down into the bed and wedges against the end of Cas's tailbone.

Castiel presses up into his touch and then moans, hips jerking like he just put his tongue to a battery as Dean presses his tongue to his asshole. He takes his time, and Cas is panting, muttering in Enochian as Dean runs hard lines into the wrinkles outside before gathering his courage further and pressing _in_.

He pauses and licks his thumb, gathering spit before sticking his tongue back into Cas's ass alongside the digit. Cas moans and arches, legs falling further open. Dean takes his time, and it's slow going using just spit, but he wants _so bad_ to make this good, and it's so filthy, it's good, it's great, fucking fantastic that he's getting his fluids inside his angel, and the only thing keeping him from taking himself back in hand and jizzing immediately is the idea of nutting into the other man instead.

He keeps fucking Cas with his tongue and he doesn't want to stop, he really doesn't, but Cas asked him to do something, and his dick is pulsing in Dean's hand, his balls feel full and heavy with fluid. Cas's fingers are back in his hair, and he's tugging hard, the little sparks of pain shoot straight to Dean's dick and he groans. When he's managed to work up to three fingers, scissored deeply as he licks outside, he stops.

"Cas I—Are you **sure**?"

"Dean, if you do not put your dick inside of me right this instant, I am _never talking to you again_." Cas is panting, flushed, dick fire engine red in Dean's hand and beautiful, so fucking beautiful and debauched and this is somehow all his for the night.

Dean swallows and gets up, kisses Cas like he was just eating him out. When they break for air he says, "I dunno' about instant, I gotta' get something first. M'kay?"

Cas's voice is lower than usual, "Hurry."

"'K..." With a pang, Dean leaves the bed to find his coat, finding the little travel size bottle of lube he usually keeps in one pocket.

He's acutely aware of Cas's eyes on his naked skin, and it's so hot, being open to that gaze, knowing all Cas can do is look—that he's helpless, he can't make Dean explode just by looking at him anymore, well, not that way—that he fumbles and takes a bit longer than usual, hands gone clumsy.

He finally gets it and walks back, drinking in the sight of Castiel laid bare before him, vulnerable in every way, covered in bite marks and bruises starting to form.

Trembling, with shaking hands, Dean fumbles the cap and it drops on the floor. He ignores it and holds Cas's steady, smoldering gaze as he lubes himself up, and it feels so good sparks dance across his vision and his eyes fall shut.

He strokes himself for a moment, unable to stop until Cas calls his name. The anticipation, the idea of what he's about to do to his friend is nearly hotter than the idea of doing it, and has little burden of guilt attached.

"Y-Yeah..." Dean crawls back onto the bed, settling over Cas, and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He pushes two, then three in, making sure he gets it in there nice and deep while Castiel writhes beneath him, moaning. Dean pants, holding his dick at the base with the other hand.

He licks his lips, "Cas I... I haven't been tested lately. But I'm usually careful, OK? Is this alright? Can I—" Dean swallows hard, mouth gone dry. "Can I feel you? Please, can I feel you around me, nothing between us?"

"Yes. Dean, I don't care. I want you, all of you. I want to feel all of you, so please, please... don't. Don't make me beg anymore." Cas drops his gaze, self-conscious, and it twists something in Dean's chest so he puts a hand on Cas's thigh. With his other hand he guides the head of his dick to his friend's entrance.

"Alright. Shh. I got you, Cas." He pushes on Cas's thigh, pulling him open further in a firm grip, and slowly, ever so slowly, sinks in, biting down hard enough on his bottom lip to draw blood. He groans and Cas is hissing, so tight around him, squirming and burning up.

The threadbare comforter bunches around Cas's legs as he writhes. _I can't believe this is happening. That I get to have this._

Dean pushes inexorably forward until he bottoms out, hand sliding down to grab Cas's ass to pull him open better. Cas's erection is trapped against his stomach and his other leg wraps around Dean's back, heel digging in above his ass to the left of his spine.

"You feel so good, Cas. Goddamn amazing."

Cas whines and presses against him, squirming and seeking friction on his erection. "Dean, move. **Move**."

Dean bends down and covers Castiel's mouth with his own, slowly moving his hips in little circles. He really wants him used to this before he takes it any harder. Cas grinds back against him, making a frustrated growl against his lips. Dean swears, sweat sliding down the back of his neck and rocks shallowly, making sure the lube is getting pushed further and further back instead of coming out with his dick when he thrusts.

" _Dean_..." Cas is relaxing, opening beneath him, and the strokes are getting smoother.

" _Cas_..." Dean whispers into his mouth, licking inside, already starting to get close to coming. Then Cas puts his hand right over where the mark on his shoulder used to be, and Dean _whines_.

He starts rutting into Cas, strokes getting longer and longer, and he pulls the ex-angel this way and that until he finds that magic little bundle of nerves, and Cas is swearing, a steady stream of curses falling from his lips as Dean kisses him over and over until he has a full body shudder and tenses, dick spasming as he comes like a fire hose between their stomachs.

"Cas... Castiel," Dean whispers like a prayer, "Please Cas, can I come in you?"

"Dean," Cas says a rapid fire series of words in Enochian, eyes at half-mast, pleading and liquid as he trembles, until he remembers himself and speaks in English. "Yes."

Dean shudders, tension snapping his body taut like a bow string, and lets the sensation of Cas's come all over his stomach, spread between them, Cas spread under him and around him, pliant and filthy overwhelm his senses as he orgasms.

"CAS! OH CHRIST CAS!" His thighs turn to stone and he's whimpering, vision going black as he bites down hard in the vulnerable join between Cas's shoulder and neck, a mark to match the one gone but not forgotten from when Castiel pulled him out of hell.

His angel is covered with his markings, full of his come, skin wet with sweat. And Dean is tired, so tired. He collapses on top of Cas and hugs him fiercely, refusing to let go while he can still have this.

He kisses softly at the vicious and slightly bloody wound he left on Cas's neck in apology, dazed and reverent. Castiel gently strokes through his sweaty hair. They're silent a long while, just listening to and feeling each other's breathing, their hearts beating in tandem. Dean eventually softens completely and slides out of Castiel.

Cas is the one to break the silence,"I believe..." Dean takes a deep breath, "that the clothes are ready to come out of the dryer."

Dean can't help it, he laughs, buries his face into Cas's neck. "Y-yeah. Of course. I just banged your freaking brains out and you're worried about _laundry_."

He hears Castiel's frown in his voice. "It is rude to the other guests to leave it in there. Also, I need to make sure it does not wrinkle before work tomorrow."

Dean sighs, raises himself up on one elbow and looks Cas in the face. "Right, work..."

Cas's face is solemn. "You have your work, and I have mine. Unless, that is, I can come home with you?" the little quiver at the end of hope fucking _destroys_ Dean.

Dean breaks his gaze and looks away, feeling like the world's biggest sack of shit. "N-no... no angel. Nothing's... nothing's changed."

Cas clenches his jaw and swallows. "Alright. Let me up."

" _Cas_..." Dean fights down the urge to fight him, to not let go, but he has no right and relents.

Cas pulls his make-shift pj's on and leaves.

Dean knows he's coming back, but the darkness and silence—broken only by the flickering of stray headlight beams and the rumble of engines as cars drive by the motel—feels oppressive, suffocating, and it's forever before Cas returns.

When the door finally opens again and Cas comes back in, he goes about his business in silence.

Dean watches carefully through the dim light filtering in through the streetlight outside and the other man doesn't seem mad, exactly, but after he hangs up his clothes he sits on the couch in quiescence.

Dean aches with fury at himself, at Zeke, at Sam, at everything, but Cas, Cas shouldn't—he shouldn't be over there by himself.

Feeling an ache deep in his bones and pressing in behind his eyes, Dean breaks the silence. "Please Cas, come here? Just... just to sleep, OK?"

Cas shoots him a small lopsided smile. "OK, Dean." He climbs into bed next to his friend, and he's close, a hands breadth away, but it's too far.

Dean swallows as the minutes tick by, and carefully doesn't think about how his ejaculate is slowly leaking out of Castiel and down into his boxers. His breathing finally evens out, and Cas is self-contained, curled into a fetal ball. Fast asleep.

Dean reaches for him then, enveloping Castiel with his arms and legs, pressing the other man against him, settling an arm over top of his, taking his hand. He brushes a kiss on the tip of Cas's ear before settling in for the night.

His mind races with all the things he can't say, and sleep is a long time coming even though his breathing and heart-rate sync with Castiel's again. He can feel it through his chest; the rhythm of the other man's heart in time with his own.

 _I can never make this up to you. Any of this. I'm too much of a fucking coward to even be able to tell you how I feel. Not that you'd have any damn reason to believe me right now._ The corner of one eye leaks fluid onto the pillow he's sharing with Cas, forehead pressed to the curve of his friend's neck. Exhausted, he finally blacks out.

Dean holds him throughout the night, sleeping like the dead. In the morning, Cas is gone from his arms without comment just before he opens his eyes. Probably writing it off as something Dean did while unconscious, like he intended.

They get cleaned up, put their armour back on, settle their faces back to neutral, pretending they were never vulnerable to each other.

That they never shared a bed, or heated kisses, or bodily fluids, because Zeke is a dick and Dean is ashamed of what they've both done to his little brother.

Instead, Dean tells Cas he's sorry, and proud the ex-angel is adapting to human life. They say goodbye. Dean sneaks clothes into the lost and found box after pretending to drive off, and returns to the bunker, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the excellent City and Colour song, "Sleeping Sickness." Please remember to feed the angst-muffin authour by stroking my delicate ego!


End file.
